In Love, Sacrifice
by Maeghan Sullivan
Summary: Inquisitor Evelyn Trevelyan deals with the aftermath of what happened at Adamant Fortress. This story contains MAJOR SPOILERS from Here Lies the Abyss in DA:I. Pairings important to the narrative: f!mage!Trevelyan/Cullen, f!mage!Hawke/Fenris, and f!mage!deceased!Amell/warden!Alistair.


**A/N: This one-shot is how I justified the hardest decision I have ever had to make in any of the Dragon Age games. There will quite obviously be MAJOR SPOILERS, though nothing after the conclusion of ****_Here Lies the Abyss_**** is spoiled. **

IN LOVE, SACRIFICE

As Inquisitor, Evelyn Trevelyan had met a lot of people - a lot of _good_ people - over the past few months, but Warden Alistair and the Champion of Kirkwall were certainly two of her favorites.

Of course, she'd heard many tales of the woman who'd been at the center of Kirkwall when the Mage Rebellion had truly started, but many of them had been revealed as gross exaggerations and outright lies - including half of the stories she'd heard form Varric himself. The Champion of Kirkwall hadn't been a supremely powerful apostate playing puppet to the templars in exchange for her own freedom, but a simple woman legitimately trying to do what she felt was best for her family, for her city. Varric _hadn't_, however, exaggerated the woman's ability to drink everyone under the table, or her witty sarcasm.

_"__Maker, what do they feed these things?"_

It was a line Evelyn herself had heard Hawke admit to saying - or, _thinking_, as it was.

No, Hawke was every bit the spitfire Varric's tales had made her seem, though she _also_ seemed to have a resigned, bitterly sober side that came out whenever the situation actually called for seriousness. It was the side of a person who had lived through too many terrible things. It was something Evelyn recognized a bit in Cullen, and something she saw even more in Alistair, the Warden friend Hawke had introduced her to.

Warden Alistair was _also_ not the man she had heard stories of before, though those stories had admittedly been fewer and farther between, so she'd never truly had a solid mental image of him with which to compare. From the little things Leliana had said in passing, Alistair was supposedly a sweet, goofy man, but that wasn't the man Evelyn saw often. In his place, she saw a man hardened by cruel reality, though not so hardened as to be too cynical to believe in the ideal that all Wardens should live up to. In that way, he truly did remind her of the Inquisition's Commander.

Still, when it came to drinking in the tavern and sharing old stories, Alistair momentarily resembled that youthful young man Leliana had mentioned. And Leliana _herself_, the few times that she had joined them all for a toast, had momentarily appeared the youthful, excitable young woman that Josephine had described her as being, years and years ago.

The two of them - Leliana and Warden Alistair - drinking together... it was more than enough to entertain _anyone_, but throw in Varric and Hawke? The stories told on those nights always left Evelyn's sides aching and the muscles in her face protesting every smile.

Leliana had been fond of bringing up past mishaps and of complaining about meals Alistair had cooked in that year they'd spent together, and Alistair'd had a habit of talking more about people he'd encountered rather than people he'd traveled with. That was, excepting the one night it had been just the three of them up in one of the not-yet-remodeled towers, still drinking and watching the stars even after Hawke had had to drag Varric home. That night, Alistair had spoken a lot about the people he'd traveled with.

_"__So you're the Spymaster now, Leliana? You know everything about everything?"_ he'd drunkenly not-quite-whispered. _"Do you know what happened to her dog?"_

_"__Alistair, _honestly_, a mabari is not just a-" _Leliana had immediately started to chastise, before stopping herself and shaking her head softly. _"Yes, I do. You think I haven't had people checking on you from time to time? I know you kept her mabari with you for years."_

_"__Not _willingly_," _he'd then claimed. _"It just wouldn't _leave_. You know she tried to sell it to a guard in Denerim once? But it wouldn't _go_." _

_"__That didn't happen."_

_"__Yes, it-"_

_"__No."_

_"__Okay, so _I_ might have been the one to try that-"_

_"__And she might have 'accidentally' let him eat all of our cheese for the next month? Yes, I know; she told me."_

_"__She did wh-? Oh, of course she did. She told you everything, didn't she?"_

_"__No,"_ Leliana had assured, though the wicked little laugh she had given afterwards had not seemed to fit with her answer. _"She never told me what happened at the Pearl to have the both of you running back to camp so flustered."_

_"__Oh, by the Maker... That's because _nothing_ happened! We told you this for _weeks_ but you wouldn't believe us! You and Oghren both, you were always so _nosey_ and you never believed the truth when you heard it."_

_"__Oghren was our dwarven friend," _Leliana had explained, grabbing the Inquisitor's arm and leaning forward as if sharing a secret. _"And the Pearl is Denerim's brothel."_

_"__Oh, now you're making it sound like something _did_ happen! To the blighted Herald of _Andraste_, no less! Nothing. Happened. Alright? Maker!" _he had grumbled in response, his hands lifting to bury his face, in the process forgetting about the bottle in his hand and clinking it against his brow. He pulled away far enough to glance down at it. _"Tell me, Lady I Know Everything... How is it that Oghren was always drunk? Did we even carry enough alcohol to keep him constantly intoxicated?"_

_"__Now _that_, Alistair... that might be the one thing I do not know."_

Their stories had continued from there, laughter abounding as they each felt the need to one-up each other with their tales. There had been a lightness in their eyes as they spoke, as if the events of their tales had occurred just the previous day, as if the years hadn't separated them, hadn't isolated them from happier days.

Evelyn had excused herself some time later, when the stories started to require more explanations and she felt as if she was intruding on a private moment between two old friends. Both had objected when she'd risen from her seat, but she'd managed to slip away, claiming something about needing to be up early. In reality, she'd slept in late the next morning - something she was certain their Spymaster had noticed, though the woman had only nodded to her when they had next crossed paths.

Leliana hadn't joined them for drinks again after that night, but that hadn't stopped Alistair from sitting in and listening to the tales that Varric and Hawke told. Evelyn was certain everyone noticed that the Warden shared fewer and fewer tales of his own on those nights, but no one called him out on the matter. Hell, with Hawke sassing Varric at every chance and the two bickering over the truth of whatever story they were telling, there hadn't been enough downtime to question the Warden anyways.

It was refreshing, sitting around a table and sharing laughs and drinks with people who were legends themselves. The Inquisitor might have loved her people, might have loved every damn soldier who joined their ranks and fought for their cause, but she got tired of always _being_ the _Inquisitor,_ the _Herald of Andraste_. It was nice to spend time with people who didn't look at her as if she couldn't possibly be _human_; there was nothing like sitting beside the Champion of Kirkwall and the Grey Warden who helped defeat the Blight to knock your ego down a peg, after all. Who cared if she had an Anchor to the Fade on her hand, when Champion of Kirkwall was talking about single-handedly bringing down the Arishok in a duel?

Though, when the lot of them had fallen from the battlements at Adamant Fortress, that Anchor to the Fade had ended up saving all of their lives at the perfect moment, stopping the fall that would have surely lead to their deaths and allowing them to walk the Fade instead. And while the Iron Bull, Cassandra, and Blackwall had looked around, marveling at the very possibility of being in the Fade, Alistair, Hawke, and the Inquisitor had collectively groaned. It was only natural for Hawke and the Herald to hate the Fade, being well aware, as mages, of the demons that lurked around every corner, but Alistair's disdain had been somewhat surprising.

_"__One of you smack me if I start believing anything we see,"_ he had muttered as he'd stepped between the two mages._"Especially if..."_ Both had nodded before he'd been forced to finish the sentence, and he'd huffed out a self sacrificing sigh as he started walking forward. _"I've seen my father in the Fade. I've seen a demon pretending to be my sister in the Fade. What's it going to be this time?"_

Evelyn still wasn't sure whether it had been good or bad that it had ended up being Justinia that they'd all seen. Which wasn't to say that it had actually _been_ Justinia, of course... Hawke, Alistair, and the Inquisitor had _all_ voiced that objection from the start, and the confusion that had followed had not completely convinced any of them otherwise.

But that wasn't the question that most haunted the Inquisitor's memories of that day. _That_ question hardly mattered to her. No, she was _much_ more concerned with the question of _what_ had happened after she'd stepped through that fade rift and sealed it shut. She'd not deluded herself into thinking that her friend was still alive... but she'd questioned countless times just how much suffering had been involved.

Hawke had been the first to volunteer herself, when the three of them had stood before the monster of a spider that blocked their exit out of the Fade.

_"__Go!"_ she had commanded. _"I'll cover you!"_

But Alistair had been just as quick to counter. _"No. You were right,"_ he'd admitted. _"The Wardens caused this mess. A Warden must-"_

_"__A Warden must help them rebuild! That's _your_ job!"_ Hawke had quickly interrupted. _"Corypheus is mine."_

_"__Both of you, enough!"_ Evelyn had snapped for the second time, raising her hand and channeling the magic of the Mark. _"You should _both_ go. I'm the only one here who has a chance of making it out of this mess alive! I have the Anchor, and I-"_

_"__And you're the only one who can stop Corypheus!"_

_"__Hawke's right, Inquisitor. _You_ are the Herald of Andraste; _you_ must be saved. Go, and I will-"_

_"__I brought us here!" _she'd shouted angrily. _"I'm sure I can open another rift again. I can get myself out after you two are safe!"_

But neither of the two were convinced, and they made that abundantly clear when they both grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her back a few steps.

_"__We can't take that risk."_

_"__And, besides, you think we'd be safe walking right out of there and leaving you behind?"_ the Warden had asked, a twinge of a soft smile on his lips as he gave a bitter laugh. _"This time, your Templar really might kill me."_

And though she'd immediately opened her mouth to object, Alistair had only released her shoulder, giving it a quick pat before shaking his head ruefully. Her objection and her confusion faded; the Commander was neither hers nor was he a Templar any longer, but that hadn't been the point.

_"__Listen," _he'd continued, _"the Wardens might need direction, but Weisshaupt and the Inquisition can help with that. You both know everything I know about the situation; you can fill in the officials. I've got nothing waiting for me on the other side of that rift, but the two of you _do_."_

When Hawke had opened _her_ mouth to object, he'd again raised a hand, giving his head a shake before he continued.

_"__I'm a Warden; my years are numbered, and my time should have run out during the Blight. You're both ridiculously stubborn, but you aren't going to beat me here. I learned from the best."_ That time, the smile on his lips had been genuine, even as his eyes had betrayed his inner turmoil. _"I told you that the Hero of Ferelden was brave? She wasn't. Making that final blow wasn't _brave_, Inquisitor... it was _selfish_, because she didn't want to face the life she was supposed to have without me. I've spent years wondering what I could do to make the life she gave me worthwhile, and _this_, right now? This is it."_

_"__Alistair-"_

_"__Cousin, tell that elf of yours where you are. Let him join you. You're not doing him any favors, sticking him on the sidelines and making him wait blindly for news of your death - _trust me_. Use the time that you two have been given. And, Herald? The world needs a hero right now, but no one has said it needs a martyr. Do what you have to do to stop that son of a bitch, but don't you _dare_ throw your life away to save someone else's. Not when the world needs you. Not when that Templar out there needs you. There's a letter, if you go through my belongings back at Skyhold... I promised someone I'd deliver it, but I'm going to need you to do it for me."_

_"__Alistair, Solona wouldn't have wanted-"_

_"__You think I'm giving you a choice, Cousin?"_ He'd smiled one last time, a heartbreaking twist of his lips, before bowing his head and nearly whispering, _"Maker willing, you can scold me for this yourself."_ And then he'd turned and charged, not leaving a second for either of the mages to react. _"For the Grey Wardens!"_

It was the Inquisitor who had had to grab Hawke be the arm and pull her toward the rift, unwilling to waste the sacrifice Alistair had just made for them, and it had been the Inquisitor who had locked away her own emotions and given a speech to the soldiers who met the two of them on the other side of the rift. But when everyone had returned to Skyhold, it hadn't been the Inquisitor who had broken the silence while the two sifted through Alistair's belongings in search for the letter he had spoken of - it had been Hawke.

_"__He really didn't have anything of hers, did he?" _The question had been soft, and the Inquisitor had looked up to see the short-haired mage sitting on the bed, a few different items scattered around her. _"Grey Warden maps, notes on Corypheus, and it looks like all you've got over there is a collection of essentials. Guess he really didn't need anything of hers, not when he had every breath to remember her by. Or maybe he had something on him? That seems likely. In any case... here," _she'd urged, extending an arm and offering up the letter that had been hidden among the maps and the notes. _"You should deliver this."_

_"__But-"_ the Inquisitor had started to question the decision, but the second she'd taken the sealed parchment in her hand and looked down at the name scrawled across it in feminine cursive, she'd understood. _Cullen_.

_"__I sent word to Fenris," _Hawke had declared a moment later, sighing as she finally got to her feet. _"I expect he'll strangle me when I meet him at Weisshaupt, but how could I deny Alistair his final request? I should be leaving; I'll take the rest of his things, so don't worry about them. _You_ should go talk to your Templar."_

_"__He's not-"_

_"__Oh, you should _really_ find a different spot to sneak away to, Herald. Alistair and I saw you two, the day before Adamant. Not that we hadn't suspected before, but..." _she'd trailed off, a light laugh bubbling up from within her as the other mage's cheeks had reddened. _"Alistair was right, you know; no one said the hero has to die in this story, and that Templar of yours _does_ need you."_

Those were the words that echoed in her mind as she felt strong arms embrace her that night, as she stood, looking up at the stars through the damaged roof in the room of the man who had somehow found his way into her heart.

"Thank you," he whispered into her ear, "for bringing me the letter. I- What I said to her, when she came back to the Tower to save us all... those words have haunted me for years, and to know that she didn't hold them against me, that she forgave me... For a while, that would have been all I could have asked for."

"And now?" she asked, her expression remaining grim even as she felt his lips press a gentle kiss to the back of her shoulder.

"Now I ask the Maker every day to let us both be here, when this is all over."

She could feel his face nuzzling into her hair, could feel the breaths he took as he stood there behind her, holding her like he was. Perhaps he _was_ hers, and perhaps he _did_ need her.

"You've been quiet since Adamant," he observed, "and I know you considered Warden Alistair a friend. Did... did he say anything... at the end? Did you get to say your goodbyes?"

He did need her, she could hear it in his voice, but what Alistair had failed to consider was that _she_ needed _him_ just as badly. Alistair would've sacrificed himself to save Solona Amell, exactly as she had done for him, and yet Alistair had _hated_ her for it. And yet Alistair had asked that Evelyn not be willing to make the same sacrifice for Cullen, that she not be willing to sacrifice her life to save her love's... to save the world's.

She asked the Maker that very same thing every morning, that there be a way to defeat this evil and set the world right again, that there be a way for she and Cullen to be together after the whole mess was over with. She wanted that, but more than anything in the world, she wanted Cullen to be alive, even if he ended up hating her for it in the end. So she knew that if it came down to it, if there was even the slightest chance that she could set the world right and keep her beloved Commander alive, she wouldn't hesitate to pay any price to make that happen. If it came down to it, she'd throw herself over the ledge with Corypheus, before she wasted a second to think through options; if it came down to it, she wouldn't allow a moment's hesitation to make her miss the chance to defeat Corypheus. When the world hung in the balance - and with it, Cullen's life - she couldn't afford to be careful.

"No," Evelyn whispered as she turned around in her love's arms, rolling up onto her toes to press a kiss to his lips. "No, it all happened too fast."


End file.
